


Dying in Bed-Stuy

by whatagrump



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatagrump/pseuds/whatagrump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Bed-Stuy, Kate's still tip-toeing around Clint, whose depression hasn't gotten much better since she left Brooklyn. So she waits, and she listens. They can figure the rest out later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dying in Bed-Stuy

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Hawkeye #21. Just a short drabble.

Kate found him in his bedroom, which was weird enough. She’d never actually been up to the second floor of Clint’s apartment before. The curtains were drawn, but he was sat up in bed with a crossword puzzle held limply in his unbandaged hand–– as though he could see what he was writing in the dim light. After a moment, the radiator started clinking and Kate limped over, settling onto the bed beside Clint. He startled, and she kicked herself for not walking through his line of sight.

[Sorry], she signed. It was one of maybe ten words she knew.

"It’s fine," he said, putting the crossword aside and forcing a smile.

"Is this okay?" she asked, hyper-aware of the way he studied her face with a furrowed brow. Futzing idiot, sitting in the dark. She reached over and turned on a lamp.

"It’s…yeah. Thanks. This is good."

Kate didn’t have much else to say. There was something awful about weighing your own tragedy against someone else’s. Her father was a monster. But he was alive. That counted for a lot.

So she reached a bruised arm around her friend’s shoulders and pulled him towards her. 

They sat like that, in silence, for a long time, until she figured Clint had zoned out. She was conscious of the way her breath ruffled his hair, the way her fingers were starting to sweat. It was that sort of long time. Finally, he rolled a shoulder and ducked his head.

"I’m only here because _Wanda_ wished me back into existence a few years ago,” he muttered into his shoulder. “Did you know that?”

"I guess I did. We never talked about it."

"You’re in this business long enough, Kate, you’ll see. People come back from the dead all the time. All the goddamn time," he said, choking on a laugh. "And you know what kills me? They don’t care. They don’t care, and It’s strange if you _stay_ dead.” 

He wiped at his face a little too roughly, until it burned pink. “And Barney’s staying dead.”

"I know," she said quietly.

"You don’t get knifed in the back on a rooftop in, in, in Bed-Stuy and _come back_.”

"I know." 

There was a lot that needed to get said. She should’ve helped Clint more when she had the chance, probably. He should’ve treated her better. She shouldn’t have taken the dog. He shouldn’t have let her. But they could get to that later. 

Instead, Kate gave a small, sad, smile and shrugged. “This sucks.”

And that made him laugh.


End file.
